Fallen
by Felicia Angel
Summary: A series of events leads back to one specific day, and one person wishes to stop them from happening...told in 1st person
1. Jules- A Year from the Day

Disclaimer: The Secret Adventures of Jules Verne doesn't belong to me

Disclaimer: _The Secret Adventures of Jules Verne_ doesn't belong to me.

Author's Warning/Note: I am about to go into a very far and very angst-ridden domain. I planned this out like most of my stories, and cried during most of the parts because I felt that I need a real tear-jerker, even if this is simply a fanfic. If you cry and somehow blame me, then don't flame the fic, just write a good review. Crying is good for you. Oh, and I write this all in first-person prose. 

Fallen

Part 1: Jules- A Year from the Day

They told me today it's been a year since they got me and all of this started. Gregory would tell me something like that, just so I could understand how quickly they could destroy a person and their loved ones. Not a day (or what I can even consider a day) goes by without me thinking about it all; how it started, how I want it to end…

How it's all my fault.

I never meant for any of this to happen the way it did. Fogg had asked me over for lunch, and we were just walking down the road, and I saw a short-cut. I knew my way around Paris by then, and knew this way well. I never saw them coming until someone grabbed me and I was in a carriage. I never even realized that Fogg was quicker then they were, but never better a shot up close. I only heard the shot before I was under from chemicals. When I woke up, I was in a prison, cold and without light except a single candle. I knew who it was that caught me, but I also remembered the shot, and I hoped and prayed everyday that Fogg and Rebecca would come through the door and rescue me. The only contact was to get food, and that was always when I was asleep. I never saw anyone come in, and I hardly ate any of it, for fear of drugs or something. Looking back now, I think if I had known what was to come, what would happen, I would've eaten all of it or choked on a bone.

No, no, if I had choked on the bone, then I would've been dead when they brought in Rebecca. She was in mourning and I knew then that Fogg had died trying to save me. I hated myself then, and I still do. I had chosen the street that lead to his death, and now Rebecca was here with me. I was responsible. 

I told her how much I was sorry, I told her it was all my fault, but she never said anything about it. I always thought she was stopping herself from agreeing with me so that I could maybe have some doubts. I didn't…not after they…no, **_I_** killed her. 

The League had built a device with two functions. You would either hang, or be torn apart, but that all depended on what the operator would allow you. they strapped her to the machine and nearly pulled her apart trying to get me to give them one little thing. Gregory said that if she was indeed pulled apart, then she would become his likeness as a wife. He made me pull the last part. I still remember the controls, and looking at her. Even in pain, she was beautiful. I knew what could end her misery. Maybe that's what Gregory wanted, for me to end her misery so mine could continue. Or maybe he really thought I would rather he live like him then die hanged like a criminal. Rebecca…her eyes locked onto mine, and there was still strength in them with her longing. She wanted to be with Phileas and Erasmus and Boniface Fogg. She wanted me to do it. So I pressed the button, and watched her fall and choke. The rope didn't break her neck, so she hung there, hardly moving, while the rope started to cut through her neck and cut off her air. It took all of eternity that I earned for doing that before she died. I never knew what happened to her body, but I suppose I don't want to. I hoped they at least sent it to the family so she could be buried next to Fogg. That much I would hope for, even if I know that would never happen. 

I never expected them to do what they did next. I didn't think they would know about Amaratsu, or my mom and dad, or Paul, or even Felix living in my room until I came back. I hoped they wouldn't, but they did, and each of them I watched die. Amaratsu…she was so beautiful, and so full of confidence. She had gotten ready before, I knew she had taken the potion so she could see the truth and go to the one that would take her on to a wonderful afterlife with her Grandfather. I wished I could use some to kill myself, or Gregory, or all of the League. She smiled warmly at me when they strapped her to the pole, as if nothing bad would happen. She kept smiling when the men aimed their rifles. She said, " Don't be afraid. Life is only a plan."

Then they shot her, and I watched…they made me watch as they shot her for target practice until she was only a mass of torn flesh…except for her face. Her face would always hold that serene smile and her eyes would be forever closed, even when her body was destroyed.

My parents…that was the only time they actually let me out. By then, I realized they hadn't caught Passepartout or the _Aurora_, and in a way that gave me an inkling of hope. They made me watch as they tortured and killed my parents, then burned down the house I had grown up in. They took me out on a boat and destroyed the French Navy boat my brother and over 500 innocent people were on. The destroyed my home with Felix and everyone else in it. Every time, was made to watch them do it, made to be quiet unless I would give them some drawing, some idea, anything. By now, my only comments were to try and get them to kill me. They still are, and they are never acted on, not even to hit me so I'll stop calling Gregory all of the names I've come up with. My only sense of accomplishment comes from the fact I have yet to repeat myself.

The worst blow to the world was when they got into Montravia and killed King Karl, his wife, his advisor, right down to the boy that got the wax to clean his shoes, and replaced them with Tyrl's heir and their men. That's where I am, now, in one of the dungeons again. At least now I can see the passing of days…but I seem to not care anymore. 

Today, just today, Passepartout came looking for help from Karl. They destroyed the _Aurora_, and tortured him before dropping him off to die with only me to confess to. My only hope, dying in my arms because I had chosen to lead his master, his friend, down an alley I thought was safe! All of this, all these innocent deaths, my fault. 

I look out my window and up at the full moon. The romantic in me, the part of me that is nearly dead, remembers when we sailed on the _Aurora_ across such a moon, but now…now, there is no _Aurora_, no Passepartout to talk with and invent with, no Fogg to verbally challenge or watch as he skillfully wins game after game of poker, no Rebecca to admire as Fogg does the same. No one, not even Felix. I doubt Argo is even alive, and if he is then Gregory would use him to try and hurt me. I'm beyond it now. All I want is to not be alone. God, I am so alone. I don't care where I go, even if it's the deepest pit of hell, as long as there is someone else, anyone else, then I'll endure my suffering all so that they wouldn't leave. God, please at least let me die.

A small sound, familiar somehow, catches my attention and I turn to look around my small cell. They took away all of the cots or anything that I could hurt myself with, and the guards outside would hear if I started to bang my head against the wall to crack it open…besides, they would probably find a way to keep me alive. I turn and I face a strange yet welcome sight. 

In front of me is the _Phoniex_, the ship that Alexandre Dumas, my friend that somehow escaped the League (well, hopefully) had built and we had left in the endless void of time. There was no other way to redeem myself. I jump in and the ship disappears into time.

I now catch a glimpse of myself in a reflective part of the ship. My hair had prematurely grayed and is wild and grown a little longer then I usually have it. My eyes are still the dark and almost innocent eyes they were when I saw them last but I can tell that there is nothing innocent about my haunted gaze. I can almost see Fogg in my eyes when Saratoga Brown was killed. I understand his grief now, though I don't think he would wish it on anyone but Gregory. My face is thin, pale from lack of sunlight, and the circles under my eyes have grown considerably. My clothing are dirty and near rags, the same ones I had on a year ago and barely washed but they lasted. I find a place to sit down and I begin to rock. With the _Phoniex_, I can save the others, make it so that they never died such horrible death…so that I won't let them die horrible deaths and be behind the instrument that does it. My possibilities start with destroying one of Gregory's ancestors, but they work their way down to his mother before I realize that Gregory could have important, distantly-related people who help keep other things safe while he would exploit them. I go to when Gregory is cut in quarters by wild horses, but end it when I realize that, despite it all, Gregory had an impact on the lives of everyone, including Fogg and Rebecca, though the ends were not originally good but somehow helped them get closer. I slowly skipped through the years I lived, the years Phileas and Rebecca and everyone lived until I come to the one conclusion I nearly started with…the DAY. I always know it as the DAY, because I really don't want to remember the exact time that I started to kill off my friends, family and even anonymous people that didn't know who I was. I would go to Fogg, because going to myself would only confuse me. A small smile, the first one from something funny in nearly a year, crosses my face and quickly disappears. My friends are dead, and I'm making myself laugh? A tear starts to form, but I brush it away. I've gotten good at that, since it all began. I would tell the Foggs, then when it worked out I would disappear forever, unknown to my former self and wonderfully so. I would, in a sense, die and be free of all my deeds.

So I set out for a year later, a day before I kill my friends.


	2. Rebecca-May 22, the Day Before

Author's Warning/Note: Contains major angst factors, and I'm sure you'll cry

Author's Warning/Note: Contains major angst factors, and I'm sure you'll cry. I did, but if you don't that's okay. If you do, then remember that crying is good for you, pansy. 

Author's Apology: I didn't mean to call you all pansies. I simply wanted to say that. Sorry.

Fallen

Part 2: Rebecca-May 22, the Day Before

I suppose that there are some who think that fate shouldn't be tampered with, that we are all supposed to live and die at a point in our lives. The same people probably never ran into the power of the _Phoniex_, or the power of despair like the one I encountered today. 

I was on the _Aurora_ when I spotted him, and at first I thought it was our Jules, the innocent one that blushes so much when I look at him some ways and is so eager to help us all out. He was near the door, writing something quickly on a piece of paper when I noticed that his hands were shaking, and his hair was a little too long to be Jules. We always made sure that Jules had his hair cut, but that was too long for any of our tastes. I slowly and quietly (very hard when you're in a dress) went over until I was behind him. He paused and sighed. " I know you're there." 

I felt my heart almost cry. The voice was Jules, so were the movements, but he could never do that. I couldn't do that for a while until someone snuck up on me too many times. What had happened?

The man turned and looked at me, and I nearly fainted at the sight of him. He was Jules Verne, he was my friend, but his eyes were in deeper and darker circles then I have ever seen in anyone but people held in prison for years upon years, and his eyes were more haunted the Phileas'. I felt ready to cry, but it was my surprise when he backed up against the table, both of those brown eyes wide with some sort of fear or remorse or both. His mouth was open a little, and I could now see that his clothing was in the worse shape I'd ever seen it. What had happened to him in such short time? We had only seen him a week ago; what passed between that week to make him so sad, so scared of me?

" Rebecca," he whispered my name like it was something not said out loud, and I tilted my head to take him all in before he lowered his eyes and fell to his knees. I started to move to him and saw his shoulders shaking, and when I looked at the side of his face tearstains showed me how dirty his face was. He turned to look at me in my eyes, and he seemed a little confused. He blinked at me, then said, " What day is today?"

" It's the 22nd."

" Of May?"

I nodded, and he seemed to have let something register in his mind. I heard him whisper, " I have time. I can make it right."

" Jules?"

He turned and looked at me, his eyes a little wide and scared, " When's Fogg coming back? Is Passepartout here?"

" Phileas is on an errand with Passepartout to a gentleman's club. He'll be back shortly. What's so important?" I shouldn't have asked that, but I had to know what made him so sad, what caused him so much grief. Had it been something that he thought I would hate him for? What?

" Rebecca," he started, then stopped. Slowly he reached out a hand and touched my cheek.. His own hand was not the soft or somewhat callused thing I hoped it to be, from touching it before, but it was raw from some sort of scrapping or rubbing along hard surfaces too long. It wouldn't take a week to do this. 

" What's happened to you?" I whispered, feeling ready to cry. I lifted my hand and touched his on my cheek, and he flinched, almost scared of my touch or of me. 

Jules licked his lips, and withdrew his hand, " I…I'm from the future. From a time I don't think should exist. I need to talk with Fogg. Tomorrow he's going to go pick me up so we can have lunch here, and I'll make a terrible mistake that will cost his life. I have to talk with him soon."

" You have you're chance," Phileas' somewhat angered voice came from the door, and we both turned to look at him.


	3. Phileas-May 22, The Day Before

Disclaimer: Why would you need it now

Disclaimer: Why would you need it now? Same as usual…

Author's Warning/Note: Major angst in this one, because it has three angst-ridden people in it.

Fallen

Part 3-Phileas, May 22nd, the Day Before

I hadn't heard all of the conversation before coming it, but I thought that perhaps Verne was taking advantage of my Rebecca. When I came in, I knew I had made a mistake. Rebecca didn't see the gray hairs that I can now easily spot, nor did she see how haunted it felt around him. Looking in my own reflection had made me aware of those features, but this Jules was brimming with them, and his eyes…oh God I never want eyes like those. They were so full of self-loathing and horror and loss. What had happened to this person I called my friend? What could give him such eyes?

" Fogg," he said, his voice making my name sound like something not used for so long or something that he mourned too long. My eyes has softened, I could tell as Rebecca rose and I caught a glimpse of myself in her eyes again. Jules, or the person so much like our young friend, rose and seemed to look me over, like we hadn't seen each other in years. 

" Who are you?" I asked. I knew he was Jules Verne, but how could he be? Even after I hurt him, even after the yellow fever and all the things that he had seen or done, this could never be the Jules Verne I knew.

" I am Jules Verne, but," he said, his voice too full of remorse for me to nearly stand. He needed a drink when he was done, " But I am from the future."  
" The future?" If this was the future I would lock Jules up in a closet and not allow him to go on adventures with us. I didn't want this to be his end result, him coming here so broken.

" Just from a year, but it always seems so much longer," Verne said, looking down and shaking his head, almost in shame. " I came back warn you."

I slowly lead him to the main gallery and brought out a small decanter as well as good whiskey. Passepartout had gotten the paper and gave it to me as Verne poured a drink and swallowed it whole. He had never done that before, and now I realized that something horrible had happened to him.

" What happened to you?" Rebecca asked, seating herself on the other side of him. I also saw that Verne never looked up when Passepartout was around, never even looked at him. He hardly looked at Rebecca or myself, simply looked at the bottle or the table. 

" I…tomorrow, you're going to go and fetch me so we can have lunch on the _Aurora_," he said. He was starting to choke on his words, I could tell, but he continued until he couldn't speak more. He told us about the shortcut, my murder, about the League getting Rebecca, and then he stopped and wouldn't tell her what happened. I gave Rebecca a look that told her I needed to speak with him alone, and she slowly got up and left to find something that might help him. Passepartout was busy elsewhere, and I leaned over and made Verne look me in the eyes. He couldn't. He would stare only a minute before he tore his eyes away but that was all I needed. He blamed himself for my death. He thought that it was his fault I had died, or would die, tomorrow. 

" Verne," I started, then thought through what I was about to say. What could I say to him? It wasn't his fault? He would argue long and loud, probably even tell me what happened to everything and I didn't need to know. His whole manner told me that the League, in one year, made him want a quick death, perhaps being able to hang himself or cut his own throat. I had thought of that long and hard when Saratoga died, but all of them wouldn't be accomplished because everyone was always hovering over me and making damn sure I wouldn't kill myself. I had to settle with death-wishes and duels, chances I would die until Rebecca made me help young Al. Now, the one person I would shelter from all that if I could, here he was in front of me and in my worst nightmare of the sense. He was hurting and what could I say to him? That I'm sorry, that it wasn't his fault when he would go on believing it no matter what excuse I came up with? 

Instead of all that, I said, " Verne, how did you get here? Why here?"

He didn't look at me for a moment, and when he did he never looked in my eyes. He always used to. " I found the _Phoniex_, and I couldn't think of a better time to come back but the day before…before all of it happened. I had to tell you because what else would I do, tell myself? How would I react?" Verne now looked at me straight in the eyes, and there was so much self-loathing that I promised myself that whoever did this, even if they were never born again, I would kill, " I would probably kill myself before letting any harm come to you or Rebecca or Passepartout. I would hang myself, or jump from the window, or…" he stopped, whatever determination nearly burned out, because his eyes were lined with tears and he was nearly ready to break the lock with my eyes, " or I would never want to see you again so that I knew I could never bring harm to you."

He broke the lock and now all I wanted to do was end his misery and maybe even comfort him, like a father to son when he's had a bad dream. He had just confessed that he, and probably our Jules, would rather kill himself or alienate himself from us then have any one of his friends hurt by saving him. Was that because I had died, or would die, trying to save him? Was that because…he had said that the League had gotten Rebecca and I slowly tried to work out what happened that made him so scared to say what had happened. If I was dead, Rebecca would mourn me deeply, and if she was captured that would be a grave insult, especially if it was rescuing Jules. My mind came up with the worst-possible thing for the League to do: make Jules kill her. If that had happened, then he would hate himself and never wish to face the world. He would be responsible for two of his bestfriend's deaths, and why wouldn't he look at Passepartout? I could ask him slowly, try to make him give me an inkling of what really happened. 

" Verne, why aren't you talking about all of it? I wouldn't talk about Saratoga, or Erasmus, or…"

" Fogg, I saw you and Erasmus before I knew who you were," the statement cut me off quickly.

" What?"  
" There was a ship that stopped in France, in Nantes. I got onboard as a cabin boy and we started to sail out when my father stopped us and made you come back. I saw you in the crowd with someone who looked like your brother, and I realize now it was Erasmus Fogg and you on the ship I tried to escape on. My brother," he nearly choked, but continued, " my brother and I thought you were agents in the French Secret Service, and made up adventures for you two to go on. I always thought you were the older brother and that you tried to save your brother whenever you could."

I remembered that journey. We had been traveling to Indonesia to find a missing person from the Service when the ship suddenly stopped. I had seen a young boy, about fourteen or so, come up and stand straight, looking a taller man with graying hair and hard eyes in the face. The man had taken his arm roughly and pulled him ashore, where they boarded a carriage and left. Erasmus made the joke that he saw me in the boy's position, with my father not being so calm about it. Had that indeed been young Jules, trying to run away?

" I never knew," I confessed, remembering that incident and the mission. It had gone smoothly, and I hadn't known that the boy had caught a fleeting glimpse and years later I would break into his garret and beat him senseless.

" I know. I just remembered when I was in the cell, and it almost struck me as funny," he said, " but I never laughed at it."  
" Why not?" I knew why, I wanted him to say it.

Verne didn't look at me when he said it. " I didn't think I should laugh when my friends were dead, or when I was the cause of so many deaths. I didn't want to remember laughing and day-dreaming with Paul because he had been killed…they blew up the French Navy ship he was in the day before I remembered it and…" he cut himself off again, and I put in a few more places. They had killed his brother, so they killed his parents too. They probably destroyed their home as well. And they made Jules watch.

I added three more weeks to how I would destroy Gregory and also put in two more torture items on my list. He would pay dearly for what he had done, even if he hadn't done it yet.

Verne drank most of the bottle, and began to talk as a drunk. That helped me somewhat, and I kept Rebecca and Passepartout away until Verne had fallen asleep and I sat watching over him. By now Gregory would not get a swift death, and it would be the most painful ever imagined by any feeling human being. He had stripped Jules of anything I considered part of him, and I would make Gregory pay for it.

" Phileas?" Rebecca's voice made me look over at her as she walked in and took a place near the sleeping Jules as well. 

" I heard," she said, " about Passepartout and myself, at least." Damn.

" I won't let this happen," I said plainly, " Even if it is the future, I don't want this for Jules." I realize what I had said. Usually I called him Verne, but now I had moved to his first name while he wasn't listening. What did that say? Only that I was simply his friend, a father-figure and I wouldn't let him be hurt, anymore then someone would let their son fall off a horse without cursing the horse first. I wanted to protect him, but this person showed that I couldn't and that was the worse thing I had ever encountered.

" He doesn't want it to happen either, that's why he told us," Rebecca said, " we will make it right."

" How, make sure that he doesn't take the blasted shortcut?"

" No," Rebecca said, and smiled sadly at the older Verne before looking at me, " We'll both go, and maybe then we'll save him."


	4. Passepartout-The Day

Fallen

Fallen

Part 4-Passepartout, the Day

My Master, and many other, think that valet's can't hear good but we hear all too well. I knew about the other Jules that was now on the _Aurora_ and who was simply waiting for himself to be non-existent. I knew that he blamed hisself for all our deaths, and that he not look at me becaused I die lastly and before he come back to save himself.

I looked over at him, sitting there and looking at the small gun nearby. I walk over and I know he know I is there but he doesn't say anything. 

" Do you remember how we first became friends?" he asked. I nod and answered, " When Master bring you onboard, he make you work in my workroom and we becomed friends."

A faint smile almost touched his face, but I thinked he forgot how to smile by now. He is worse off then Master, and I know that I would hurt myself before my Master gets this bad off.

" I wish that would come back for me, that I could actually live like that again and forget," he said, reaching for the gun. I cannot stop him, because Master and Miss Rebecca told me not to. If he die, then perhaps it be right for him. He holds the gun in his hand only, still rested on the table. I want no more then to take it out and not relive the feelings that happened when Master fight Cavois in Russian Roulette.

" I wish that all of this was past," he said, raising the gun. I move from behind him and finally look him in the face. He is so sad, he is ready to kill himself. He would want me to do it, but he know that I would carry that weight as well, " I wish I wasn't so alone."

" You is not alone, Jules," I say, " No matter what happened, or what you did, we always with you in spirit and heart. You never alone, even when you thinked you are."

Jules looked at me from the gun placed below his chin, then his eyes went a little wide before he actually smiled, a genuine smile. He was happy about something.

" They did it," he whispered, and lowered the gun. I could see now he is begin to fade, " I'm…gone."

He disappear, and a smile is on his face. I stare at the place then realize what he meant. He was gone, truly gone, and we was alive for now and not dead. He wanted to not be so we could live.

I shudder at the thought, but then thinked it through. If I could be no existed, then would I if my Master, or Miss Rebecca, or Jules or anyone lived? Perhaps but then what would happen to them? Would they forget? No, perhaps they would stay happy knowing me and my sacrifice. I knowed Jules' sacrifice and I not wish him to do it again.

The door opened and in came them, everyone fine. I nearly hug Jules but I stop short and go to make lunch. Miss Rebecca comes in and she asked me about last few moments of other Jules.

" He thinked to kill hisself," I told her, " but I tell him he never alone, that we always with him no matter death or life. He then become happy that he non exist."

" He was happy?"

" Yes, Miss Rebecca. He happy because we safe."

Miss Rebecca nods, understand. " Passepartout, we did go down the street, and I did see a few characters but I think they didn't want to deal with two Foggs. We got her quickly, right?"

" Yes, but only a few minutes."

Rebecca walks out, and now I know why she asked that. A few minutes, and lives change very quickly. I simply glad it happened differently this time.

__

Author's Note: If you don't like it, then fine! I simply feel that everything is done and nothing more is left to write except that everyone is fine and nothing bad happened to create the very sad and angsty Jules.


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